Posts tagged with "April 2017 Florida Issue":

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Perkins + Will unveils renderings of mixed-use Miami Beach development

Perkins + Will has revealed renderings of its new mixed-use complex in Miami Beach, which will anchor one of Miami’s liveliest corners, Alton Road and Lincoln Road Mall. The new structure will house a boutique hotel, European-style food market, retail spaces, and a 450-car parking structure.

Lincoln Road is already home to many modern buildings, such as Frank Gehry’s New World Center and Herzog & de Meuron’s 1111 Lincoln Road, which is part of the appeal according to Jose Gelabert-Navia, Managing Principal on the project. “We love doing projects in Miami Beach, because the architecture is already modern, contemporary, and cutting edge,” he said.

1212 Lincoln Road aims to speak to that tradition and engage the area’s walkable nature, providing a grand exterior staircase for access to the market and a second-floor balcony with views of the pedestrian mall.   

1212 Lincoln Road is scheduled to begin construction in 2017. The design team is led by Design Director and Principal Pat Bosch alongisde Alejandro Branger, Damian Ponton, and Carlos Vilato and Kricket Snow is the Project Manager.

Architect: Perkins + Will Client: Crescent Heights Location: Miami, FL Completion Date: 2018

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Weiss/Manfredi tapped to master plan Naples, Florida’s cultural campus

This article appears in The Architect’s Newspaper’s April 2017 issue, which takes a deep dive into Florida to coincide with the upcoming AIA Conference on Architecture in Orlando (April 27 to 29). We’re publishing the issue online as the Conference approaches—click here to see the latest articles to be uploaded.

Naples, Florida-based arts organization Artis—Naples hired New York-based Weiss/Manfredi to create a master plan for its 99,000-square-foot Kimberly K. Querrey and Louis A. Simpson Cultural Campus. The plan will help the campus—home to the Naples Philharmonic, The Baker Museum (formerly the Naples Museum of Art), and a handful of other arts facilities—become more cohesive and dynamic, as well as embrace its natural surroundings.

“What we’re really focusing on are the spaces between the buildings,” said Weiss/Manfredi’s Michael Manfredi, who points out that much of the campus, even though it is located less than a mile from the Gulf of Mexico, is covered in surface parking and self-contained structures. “The light, the water… to take that atmosphere and pull it into Artis—Naples is an extraordinary opportunity,” added fellow principal Marion Weiss. “They have an opportunity to have both a cultural and public dimension.”

The master plan, set to guide development on the campus for the next two to three decades, is scheduled to be ready by summer, with work getting underway next year. The designers are set to meet with Artis—Naples officials and the local community in the coming weeks.

“We’re still at the early part of this exploration. But we know that when disciplines intersect something special happens,” said Artis—Naples CEO and President Kathleen van Bergen, hinting at closer connections among the institution’s varied cultural offerings. She added: “We want them to look at the entire property and consider everything. You don’t often get an opportunity like this in an organization’s life cycle.”

Currently that property, which hosts about 300,000 visitors per year, consists of five buildings, including two performance halls (Frances Pew Hayes Hall and Myra J. Daniels Pavilion), The Baker Museum, the Toni Stabile Education Building, and the Kohan Administration Building.

Best known for its Olympic Sculpture Park in Seattle, Weiss/Manfredi has also master planned the Nelson-Atkins Museum Cultural Arts District, and designed the Kent State Center for Architecture and Environmental Design. On this project, the firm beat out Diller Scofidio + Renfro with Hargreaves Associates, NADAAA with Michael Van Valkenburgh Associates, and PWP Landscape Architecture with Allied Works Architecture.

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Massive $3 billion development will accelerate Tampa, Florida’s growth

This article appears in The Architect’s Newspaper’s April 2017 issue, which takes a deep dive into Florida to coincide with the upcoming AIA Conference on Architecture in Orlando (April 27 to 29). We’re publishing the issue online as the Conference approaches—click here to see the latest articles to be uploaded.

Tampa, Florida, is one of the fastest growing cities in America. But one development in particular is set to catapult it forward more quickly than any other.

Developer Strategic Property Partners (SPP) is planning a roughly 50-acre, 9-million-square-foot, $3 billion, mixed-use project on the south side of the city’s downtown that will employ more than 15 architecture teams, designing more than 20 buildings. The first phase is slated to be complete by the end of 2020.

While the full team will be announced next month, confirmed architects include Morris Adjmi, COOKFOX, and Alfonso Architects, and landscape architects Reed Hilderbrand. Master planners include David Manfredi of Elkus Manfredi Architects, Jeff Speck of Speck & Associates, and David Dixon of Stantec.

Currently the site, edging the Hillsborough River and other local bodies of water, is a warren of oversized roads, parking lots, empty warehouses, and some lonely-feeling, but important, buildings like the Tampa Convention Center, Amalie Arena, Tampa Bay History Center, and the Florida Aquarium.

In order to create a more vibrant, urban environment, the team, said SPP CEO James Nozar, is paying careful attention to elements like walkability, architectural and programmatic variety, sustainability, landscape, and public space.

“We want it to feel authentic despite the fact that everything is going up at the same time,” said Nozar, who focused on the exceptional variety of architectural talent involved, a re-instituted street grid, and a careful balance of “depth, shadow, [and] context,” and “defining where the special moments happen and where the background fabric is.”

A dizzying amount of uses include over 2 million square feet of corporate office space, 200,000 square feet of creative and tech office space, a 320,000-square-foot facility for the University of South Florida Morsani College of Medicine, a 400,000-square-foot medical arts building, 5,000 new residential apartment and condominium units, 750,000 square feet of new retail and cultural arts uses, a new arts pavilion, two new hotels, and the renovation of the existing Marriott Waterside Hotel & Marina.

The project, added Nozar, is pursuing WELL Building Certification, focusing on human health and wellness elements like fitness, light, and comfort. SPP is a joint venture between Cascade Investment LLP (Bill Gates’s investment fund) and local businessman Jeff Vinik, who owns the Tampa Bay Lightning hockey team.

The city of Tampa has pledged to chip in $100 million for the site’s infrastructure, including new and updated roads, sidewalks, water, sewer, and park spaces, confirmed Bob McDonaugh, Tampa’s economic opportunity administrator. “They have very ambitious plans and we’re very supportive of them,” said McDonaugh. “It’s an interesting opportunity; instead of doing this piecemeal, it seems to make sense to do this all at once.” Pending approvals, building is set to begin next spring.

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Facing rising sea levels and greater insurance risk, Southern Florida braces for relocations, new flood design standards, and more

This article appears in The Architect’s Newspaper’s April 2017 issue, which takes a deep dive into Florida to coincide with the upcoming AIA Conference on Architecture in Orlando (April 27 to 29). We're publishing the issue online as the Conference approaches—click here to see the latest articles to be uploaded.

The moon over South Florida looked like a swollen grapefruit in November, its reflection rippling off pools of ocean water that bubbled up through storm drains, crept over seawalls, and swallowed Miami streets. It was a “supermoon,” about 17,000 miles closer to Earth than usual, according to NASA, arriving just in time to supercharge the seasonal high waters known as king tides. The water made an island out of the lifeguards’ shack on Matheson Hammock Park, swept “No Wake” signs from marina harbors onto city streets, and marooned a live octopus in a parking garage along Biscayne Bay.

On days like these, it’s obvious that much of the region now home to about 7 million people began as a network of swampy canals meandering from the Everglades to the ocean. Sometimes nature conspires to remind the city of this fact, as it did in November 2016.

Lately those reminders have become more frequent. The rate of sea-level rise has tripled over the last decade, according to a recent study from the University of Miami, bringing with it more frequent coastal flooding. The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers projects that Miami-Dade County will see about 15 inches of sea-level rise by 2045. And because South Florida sits on porous limestone bedrock, saltwater is not just encroaching on coastal communities, but gurgling up from below.

Right now it’s a nuisance, but over the lifetime of a mortgage, flooding in South Florida could threaten tens of billions of dollars of real estate and upend development in the country’s 10th largest metropolitan area. Architects, planners, and developers are just beginning to overhaul the urban landscape, laying the groundwork for a sweeping transformation of building codes, municipal infrastructure, and design norms that could save the city from rising seas.

The crucial question is: Who will change that built environment? Will it be architects and city officials, safeguarding South Florida against the effects of climate change as the world’s living laboratory for so-called climate resiliency? Or is nature coming to reclaim Miami as a swampland?

Higher Ground

South Florida’s development boom is so lucrative it seems inevitable that it will continue. Before the city was founded in 1896, however, it wasn’t clear that the mouth of the Miami River would ever be anything more than a mosquito-infested trading post—until the industrialist Henry Flagler dragged his railroad south from Palm Beach along the highest ground he could find: a coral ridge between 12 and 25 feet above sea level. The tracks reached Biscayne Bay on April 22, 1896. Three months later Miami was incorporated.

Today, Miami is a bustling, sprawling urban landscape that has been remade to suit cars, but some planners say that the same limestone ridge Flagler used could anchor climate-friendly development.

The Urban Land Institute is drafting a plan for the Arch Creek Basin, a mostly low-lying area straddling 2,800 acres and four municipalities, as well as unincorporated Dade County, around one stretch of the railroad. Primarily poor people of color, the residents of Arch Creek face a severe threat from sea-level rise—one that could eventually force them to abandon the area.

At a charette in November, designers Gustavo Sanchez-Hugalde, Max Zabala and University of Miami professor Sonia Chao presented their idea for a flood-resistant transportation hub at Northeast 125th Street. It would be transit-oriented development, dense with mixed-use buildings and affordable housing, but also with a health clinic, back-up generators and other resources that could come in handy during a disaster.

“Think of these as not just transit but resilience stations,” said Chao.

In the long run, South Florida’s scarcity of higher ground could also make its elevated areas more valuable as waters rise. That could exacerbate gentrification in minority neighborhoods with relatively high elevations like Liberty City and Little Havana.

“It’s a matter of time until investors will head for the higher land,” said James Murley, chief resilience officer for Miami-Dade County. But climate change isn’t forcing people out of their homes just yet. Asked if climate change is a driving force for gentrification in Miami, Murley is skeptical, but others are starting to look toward the future.

“Right now we’re experiencing more of the classic gentrification that comes with a growing real estate economy,” Murley said.

While the mainland mulls long-term plans to adapt to rising seas, the coastal barrier island of Miami Beach is busy building.

Planning for High Water

Over the next five years, the municipality of Miami Beach will spend $400 to $500 million on flood defenses, installing 80 new pumps, raising roads, and strengthening seawalls across the city. So far the city has funded about $200 million of that project by more than doubling stormwater fees.

A law passed last year requires the owners of buildings larger than 7,000 square feet to pay a fee if they don’t get certified as at least LEED Gold. The builders of properties that don’t get LEED certified at all get slapped with a fee equal to 5 percent of their construction costs. That could help raise money for future infrastructure investments.

Miami Beach also requires new buildings to be at least one foot above the base flood elevation of six feet above sea level. As an additional incentive for developers, the city won’t count the raised elevation of a flood-proofed site toward the project’s height limit or floor-to-area ratio.

Miami Beach environment and sustainability director Elizabeth Wheaton said the new requirements wouldn’t stunt development.

“Developers want to build here,” Wheaton said. “They’re going to do what’s required.”

The first building completed under the new elevation requirements is Jean Nouvel’s Monad Terrace, a 59-unit luxury residential tower on the waterfront in South Beach. Nouvel built Monad Terrace’s ground floor more than 11 feet above sea level, elevating all of the building’s interior spaces and its entrance high enough to ward off flooding.

Building high is an increasingly popular choice for private residences, too. The local architect Rene Gonzalez, known for his high-end modernist houses, is building four new homes in the area that are modeled on mangroves—propped up with stilts and columns for an additional layer of privacy that also affords the owner some long-term insurance against flooding. Gonzalez designed his own home on Belle Isle the same way.

“It’s a responsibility that every architect should take on,” said Gonzalez. “Building a house up is not a luxury. It’s a necessity in our current environmental climate.”

For now, however, most of that work is clustered in tony Miami Beach. In Miami-Dade County at large, where nearly half of all residents live in poverty, there are fewer options.

Because saltwater rises up through South Florida’s porous limestone bedrock, it’s not just coastal communities that are at risk. Many of the most threatened areas lie miles inland, in suburban and often low-income areas of Miami-Dade and Broward Counties that can’t afford to elevate all their homes and streets.

“It’s unavoidable that there will be relocations,” said Anthony Abbate, an architect based in Fort Lauderdale in Broward County, just to the north of Miami-Dade. “It’s a difficult conversation but I think we’re on the verge of having it. This has to be a conversation with the people, with the public.”

Miami-Dade is in the middle of a vulnerability analysis for major infrastructure, from its airport to its water system, identifying “adaptation action areas” where city planners might best focus their efforts.

“There’s a lot of work that needs to be done and it needs to be done in short order,” said Abbate.

Some of that work is already underway. The newest addition to the county’s hospital system will pioneer a flood-friendly approach in the recently incorporated town of Doral, just west of Miami International Airport. Designed by Perkins + Will, Jackson West hospital will devote most of its 27 acres to green space and a retention pond to store runoff not just from the built-up part of the site that will house the hospital, but from the developments surrounding the site. Construction is set to begin later this year and the hospital could open in 2020.

Risk and Reward

Perhaps before it faces up to the force of nature, however, South Florida may have to reckon with its runaway real estate market. Wayne Pathman, a land-use attorney and chair of Miami’s Sea Level Rise Committee, said the face of Miami’s climate crisis might not be a natural disaster, but a collapse of the insurance market.

“Flood insurance is going to be the tip of the spear,” Pathman said. “Unlike hurricanes, which are a single event that may not happen for years at a time, sea-level rise is a constant. Once it’s here, it’s here, and it’s never going to get better.”

Pathman said some of his clients with property in Miami Beach and North Beach are already seeing a 500 percent increase in their flood insurance premiums. For now, that’s manageable, he said, because they were probably underpriced in the first place.

“When that jumps as high as $50,000 over the next 10 years, which it will, that’s alarming,” he said.

Areas that today flood two or three times each year could see water in the streets every week, and banks may stop offering mortgages there. That could have ripple effects across the region, Pathman said, jeopardizing tourism dollars and property-tax revenue that Miami-Dade and Broward counties will need to fund new climate-resilient infrastructure.

“Those are our only two industries here in South Florida,” Pathman said. “If we don’t start dealing with the insurance risk, all the ideas we come up with for future infrastructure will be cost-prohibitive because we won’t have any money.”

Reinaldo Borges, an architect who sits on the sea-level rise committee with Pathman, said the luxury houses and museums already built to deal with higher seas show climate-resilient design can provide a return on investment.

“If you design correctly,” he said, “you shouldn’t be worried about insurance risk.”

Borges has a checklist for clients who are looking to invest in the future of Miami real estate—not just flip property for a profit. It includes elevating building mechanical systems, installing hurricane-proof windows, and planning for severe floods.

“For a building like that, all you have to do before a storm is bring your pool chairs inside,” he said.

Climate-proofing one building may be a straightforward design problem. Saving a metro region of 7 million is something else.

Borges came to Miami when he was six years old, brought from Cuba by parents who sought a better life for their children. Today he has two daughters, ages 23 and 29, and he has the same hope for them.

“When you’ve got political leadership in denial, these are challenges I’m concerned about,” said Borges. “This is a world-class city, but people are starting to ask if this is the place they really want to invest.” 

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Deep in the Florida Everglades, this former state prison hosts private military training operations

This article appears in The Architect’s Newspaper’s April 2017 issue, which takes a deep dive into Florida to coincide with the upcoming AIA Conference on Architecture in Orlando (April 27 to 29). We're publishing the issue online as the Conference approaches—click here to see the latest articles to be uploaded.

Deep in the Florida Everglades, surrounded by wildlife and natural preserves, an abandoned correctional facility has become the unlikely background for high-stakes military training operations, far from the public eye. The Hendry Correctional Institute, a former high-security state prison complex turned private training facility, is the unlikely protagonist in a new generation of military-style training scenarios.

Since 2012, the site has been run by Altair Training Solutions, a private enterprise that rents out the facility and provides training to clients across a spectrum of military, private, and security interests. Site organizers capitalize on the facility’s protective architecture, and its layers of security infrastructure left over from its prison days, to inject realism in simulated missions for special operations forces, law enforcement agencies, and weekend hobbyists.

The site signals a shift in what we might think of as “adaptive reuse” in a niche market of the newly securitized economy. Instead of repurposing an abandoned warehouse or a dilapidated factory into lofts or retail space, the scheme here was to reinvigorate a vast area on the urban scale—including 1,150 surrounding acres, a nearby county correctional facility, two hotels, houses, dining halls, a research and development facility, long and short shooting ranges, shoot houses, and a 3,800-foot-long private airstrip. Instead of targeting traditional market forces, the land-grab speculation hinges on the presumed insatiable and continued interest of militarized forces in the kind of free-rein, live-fire, no-holds-barred urban expeditions that only an underused, remote, and built-up site allows.

Such sites have long been objects of desire for the U.S. armed forces, which see them as ready-made approximations of emerging theaters of operations—stand-ins for the streets, markets, and central business districts of hostile cities a world away. The RAND Corporation identified abandoned towns as future training gold mines in the mid-2000s. The U.S. military has, in recent years, used existing—and sometimes inhabited—domestic cities to add realism to their training regimens. But this site was identified and purchased by private citizens (albeit former-military), and was initially supported by public tax incentives (a package the State of Florida called Project Assassin, which was later rescinded). The newly reimagined facility opens its doors to the untrained hobbyist and gun enthusiast. Public programming requires no military training or law-enforcement credentials—passing a criminal background check and paying the entry fee gains entry to select courses. In one recent example, students from every walk of life spent a Saturday learning to shoot targets near the former prison law library from hovering helicopters. This is a mom-and-pop shop for street-front shoot-’em-ups. This is amateur hour. And it may only be the beginning, a model for the private security urbanism to come.

To better understand the draw of the site, one must understand remoteness as a fundamental asset of the new private security urbanism. The state has historically invested in remote areas for detention purposes, using distance from populated centers as a buffer. Built in 1977 to be intentionally surrounded by uninhabited wilderness, the facility had been deteriorating for decades. The required public funding for renovations and remote access had become a burden to the State of Florida. The once-desired remoteness proved to only expedite the prison’s eventual demise, but later offered an opportunity for other uses—allowing for the type of training other non-remote sites cannot.

The details of the training contracts are confidential, but one can imagine the series of exfiltration and other tactical operations that this type of location affords. As other military installations are spending money to faithfully recreate every physical nuance of projected intervention sites from scratch, Altair comes ready-made with a bona fide architecture of imprisonment. The former prison and its buildings, no longer capable of sustaining prior instantiations of security, are now seen as “up for grabs”—a kind of marketable good, repurposed to the whims of the new securocratic order.

It takes a mind with a particular type of calculus to understand the high value of civic remnants in the oncoming era. While the standard of real estate development speculation looks for new density and economic growth opportunities, these alternative post-urban investment schemes search for forgotten ghost spaces, where remoteness and absence of human inhabitation are the prized components. Given the rampant privatization of the prison-industrial complex, abandoned state prisons could soon be a boon to the speculative rehabber of disused security infrastructure. The architecture of incarceration is offered as a stage set, perpetuating its imagined use.

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Miami embodies challenging stereotypes, but generates new architectural identities in spite of them

This article appears in The Architect’s Newspaper’s April 2017 issue, which takes a deep dive into Florida to coincide with the upcoming AIA Conference on Architecture in Orlando (April 27 to 29). We're publishing the issue online as the Conference approaches—click here to see the latest articles to be uploaded.

There are facts about Miami that challenge the American narrative on what it means to be an American, like the fact that most Miamians—documented and undocumented—have been Americans their entire lives, just more southerly located; one of the city’s major arteries is Calle Ocho (US-41), which starts at the Atlantic Ocean in Downtown Miami, stretches into the upper peninsula of Michigan, turning into a cul-de-sac, wrapping around itself and splitting the United States in two; and English has never been an official language of the United States, most evident in Miami’s creation of Spanglish. Perhaps no other interpretation can locate the problem of Miami as a most American object.

Miami is blown-out, teetering over the line of acceptable, into the realm of the incredible and back again in an instance so fleeting it can only be described in ephemeral anecdotes. Yet within this feeling there is permanence, textures embedded within the sidewalk Cuban-coffee windows, the Haitian barbecue in parking lots, the unspecified graffiti facades of new buildings, the bridge-cities connecting synthetic earth to eroding beaches, color and light used as generators for architecture, and ultimately in the multi-versed language of formalities spoken by the beautiful people of this sprawled-out, horizontal Tower of Babel.

As a capital of the end and beginning of the world, Miami’s architecture is fitting. From its colonial past through its cracker style, to its New Deal modern and art deco internationalist explosion, Miami has been equal parts parking lot and low-key laboratory for designers. Like Los Angeles, Miami had its own variation on postmodernism, thanks to unforgettable work by Arquitectonica, such as Pink House and the Atlantis; Roney Mateu’s 1984 radical, steel-and-glass Luminaire building that challenged Coral Gables’ small, terra-cotta city fabric; and Philip Johnson’s Miami Cultural Center, where one might have “Jammed at the M.A.M.” (before it became PAMM). This period saw Miami’s most prolific cocaine-funded densification, only surpassed more recently with unfettered safe-deposit-box towers dotting the skyline. Over the last 20 years, Miami has been equally critiqued for its lack of resiliency in sustainability and celebrated as an innovative southeastern center. One lesson from this contradiction is that Miami has always been both, inhabiting challenging stereotypes, while projecting new identities in spite of them.

But Miami’s architecture translates some of these conditions visually, through instances of drive-by-sidewalk cultures and mediated facades; coloration as a strategy for architecture; and resilient bridge-cityscapes. Since it’s unproductive to attempt a meager definition of everything in Miami, perhaps then the projection of new genealogies through its architecture might make it more worthwhile.

A new species of architectural element has exploded in Miami: the mediated facade. That is to say that the facade—technocratic, ornamental, relaxed, absent, and otherwise—has had a very sympathetic, albeit aesthetically allergic, ear within the history of Miami thanks to capital, climate, and culture. For example, expressive and gigantic graphics found their origins during modernism in the tile facades famously capping the sides of Enrique Gutierrez’s Bacardi Building and on Roberto Burle Marx’s sidewalk pavers, both located on Biscayne Boulevard. The mediated facade is different because it is divorced from its traditional place within the elements of architecture and the design process, more specifically in a planned loss of control for the architect. The facade in Miami began to operate differently in the Design District in the early-to-mid 2000s with an origin in Rene Gonzalez’s CIFO Art Museum. Using one million Bisazza glass mosaic tiles to represent a jungle scenography, Gonzalez harnessed postmodern communication to flatly rasterize the historical tectonic gymnastics of facades in Miami without resorting to a metaphoric translation of vegetation. However, that jungle image at CIFO not only transformed the reception of facades in the Design District via swift driving, tight parking, and slow walking, but also the transparencies and porosities of Miami’s more acceptable architectural faces.

In Wynwood, a low-resolution high-participation version of the mediated facade has taken the form of almost-bare frontal surface treatments by architects, turning the sidewalk into an outdoor lowbrow museum stroll. By leaving facades stark, architects are giving up aesthetic control and expression for a more localized collaboration, usually with painters, artists, and graffiti writers, to fill in the gap between neighborhood and interior. The result is a multivalent series of streetscapes, corridors, alleyways, and entrance sequences that extend art both into the facade-driven traditions of architecture and the urban interior, accessible when it doesn’t rain.

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AN focuses on Florida for the AIA Conference on Architecture in Orlando

The Architect's Newspaper's April 2017 issue takes a deep dive into Florida to coincide with the upcoming AIA Conference on Architecture in Orlando (April 27 to 29). You can see all those articles on this page. Here, Senior Editor Matt Shaw's editorial from that issue highlights what we've explored in the Sunshine State.

Since The Architect’s Newspaper (AN) switched from four weekly regional editions to one single national monthly, we have worked tirelessly to maintain our in-depth regional coverage of architecture, even if it is packaged differently. But sometimes we miss the intense focus on one region for one issue. That is why for our AIA special issue, which coincides with the AIA Conference on Architecture in Orlando, Florida, we decided to make a Florida regional issue, in the spirit of our old East, Midwest, West, and Southwest editions. We could call it Southeast, but there is so much building and development going on in Florida that we wanted to give it the classic AN treatment by itself.

What exactly is happening there?

Most of the high-profile development is in Miami, where The Four Seasons stands as the tallest building in the city at 789 feet, but will soon be surpassed by the 830-foot-tall Panorama Tower, and soon after that both will likely be passed by a wave of supertalls that are in the planning process. There are nearly a dozen proposals in various states of planning, including World Trade Center of the Americas, The Towers by Foster + Partners, KPF’s One Bayfront Plaza, and Skyrise Miami, a.k.a. “The Eiffel Tower of the Magic City.” The FAA has never approved a building over 1,049 feet, so that is the designated height of many, including the latter three listed above.

This boom shows that while the condo market in South Florida may actually be cooling off, the cities are not. In our feature, we profile Miami from several angles, showing a complex metropolis layered with architecture and design activity. The latest wave of development has brought with it a new civic-mindedness to a city that is struggling to escape its car-centric culture and is slowly growing to offer more urbane experiences through infrastructure, density, and advances in technology. The re-urbanization of Miami parallels many other places, but it has its own characteristic development patterns.

The paradox of building directly in the face of sea-level rise may seem daunting, especially as the governor of Florida continues to deny climate change and forbids government employees from using the term. Luckily, there is hope: A sub-state organization of counties and municipalities are taking the lead without state help. Since 2009, the counties of Broward, Miami-Dade, Monroe, and Palm Beach have led the Southeast Florida Regional Climate Change Compact. Other partners include the Institute for Sustainable Communities, South Florida Water Management District, The Nature Conservancy – Florida Chapter, and the Florida Climate Institute. Along with a collection of cities and towns, they have been working together—and meeting annually—to coordinate mitigation and adaptation activities across county lines, as well as address funding and policy issues.

In Miami, there is also work being done to combat the social issues of sea-level rise threatening the city, as there is real concern that up to 50 percent of the land will not be habitable in the coming decades. What will happen if this is true? Not only would real estate become unusable, but higher ground that is now affordable could become unaffordable for those who live there, if that territory becomes more desirable to those displaced along the shore. To offset that, many are looking to Philadelphia’s anti-gentrification “Development Without Displacement” methods such as the tax exemptions in the Longtime Owner-Occupant Program (LOOP), and other alternative ownership incentives and models, and applying them to a GIS-based plan for the city.

These contradictory forces—the ocean and the city—may pose a threat to Miami if no action is taken, but they are also what makes it so desirable. The landscape and the resultant tourism industry—hotels, malls, resorts, beaches, nightlife—fuels a tropical paradise with urban, suburban, and rural issues as compelling and complex as anywhere.

Because we cover Florida regularly, we have some past coverage that might interest those who enjoy this issue. Click here for a list of past articles.

Special thanks to landscape architect Walter Meyer of Local Office Landscape Architecture whose help was indispensable for this issue.

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1,000-foot-tall observation tower proposed for Miami’s Downtown waterfront

Leave it to Miami to build a 1,000-foot-tall tower and top it with an exclusive club. The Skyrise Miami observation tower, designed by Miami-based Arquitectonica, is proposed to sit at Bayside Marketplace in Downtown Miami. Along with its Skytop club and Premium Observation Deck, some 900 feet above the waterfront, the tower will also include at least three other indoor and outdoor observation decks, and three theme park-like rides: the SkyRise Flying Theater ride, the bungee jump-like Sky Plunge, and the free-falling Skydrop. The base of the tower will include entertainment, retail, and restaurant space. The tower is projected to be LEED Gold Certified and is being touted for its ability to withstand wind speeds of up to 186 miles per hour. Currently, the tallest building in Miami is just under 800 feet tall. If built, the Skyrise Miami may take that title, though there are a hand full of skyscrapers proposed and under construction that will be vying for that top spot.
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A Jimmy Buffett–themed community for seniors is coming to Daytona Beach

This article appears in The Architect’s Newspaper’s April 2017 issue, which takes a deep dive into Florida to coincide with the upcoming AIA Conference on Architecture in Orlando (April 27 to 29). We’re publishing the issue online as the Conference approaches—click here to see the latest articles to be uploaded. Thanks to a new Florida development, it will soon be possible to live in Jimmy Buffett's Margaritaville.

The almost $1 billion Buffett-themed Daytona Beach complex is marketed towards the 55-plus crowd who crave those tropical vibes. At Latitude Margaritaville, parrotheads residents can enjoy beach access, a resort-style pool, Margaritaville-branded cuisine at on-site restaurants, a fitness center, and a walkable town square complete with transit links to the community's various destinations. A band shell for live entertainment will round out the programming.

Though the singer's Margaritaville brand includes hospitality ventures in the U.S. and Caribbean, a retirement community is perhaps the perfect entrepreneurial synthesis of Buffett’s drunken yacht rock and easy life ethos. Canada- and Florida-based developer Minto Communities is spearheading the project, which is located near the intersection of Interstate 95 and LPGA Boulevard. A sales center for the development's 6,900 homes is expected to open this fall.

The Orlando Business Journal reported the project, previously christened Tomoka, will boost Daytona Beach’s residential population significantly.

“For over 60 years Minto has focused on providing incredible lifestyle in the communities we create,” Minto Communities senior vice president Bill Bullock said, in a statement. “We are thrilled to be partnering with Margaritaville to put the exclamation point on fun living for active adults.”

“We are excited to partner with Minto and believe this relationship will redefine lifestyle destination living in Daytona Beach,” added Margaritaville CEO John Cohlan. “With Minto’s expertise in creating master-planned developments and Margaritaville’s inherent ability to deliver fun and escapism, Latitude Margaritaville has the exact coordinates for those looking to live the Margaritaville lifestyle as they grow older, but not up.”

Well, cheers to that.